#nye fic

[amywritesthings]

new year, new choso. / choso nye fic

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo

welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!

New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.

Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.

Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.

It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.

The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.

(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)

You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.

Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.

(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)

“Did you need a refill?”

The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.

When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.

Your first thought? He’s beautiful.

Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.

The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence. 

“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”

“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”

He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.

You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.

God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.

(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)

Right.

You're dissociating.

Back to the guy in front of you.

“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.

The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.

“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.

“Feels a little crowded here.”

"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.

Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.

You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.

“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.

“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”

“Which one is he?”

Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.

He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.

“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”

Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.

He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.

When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.

“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.

Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”

(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)

“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”

“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”

Choso shakes his head. 

“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”

“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”

“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”

“Really? Your first, ever?”

He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”

The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.

He warms to it, however, and laughs with you. 

“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.

“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”

You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”

It’s the truth: this man is interesting.

Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.

Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.

It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.

“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”

He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.

“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”

Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.

“—I think I screwed that part up.”

“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, suits always look good.”

Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.

“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”

Oh.

He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.

“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.

His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”

Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”

A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.

The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.

Three, to be exact.

Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.

“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”

Wait, he saw you come in?

When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself. 

“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”

No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”

“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”

One minute remaining.

Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.

“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”

A date.

Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.

“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”

Twenty seconds. 

“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.

For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience. 

If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.

“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.

Ten seconds.

“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.

His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.

You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.

(Maybe next year really will be better.)

[xaphrin]

At Midnight, My Heart Drops

Fuck.

Raven stared into Damian's calm face, desperately trying to think of something to say - an excuse, a flippant comment - anything. But, no. She stood there, frozen on the spot watching the muscle in his jaw twitch as he waited for an answer for the most unnerving question he could have asked her. 

“I'm… sorry?” She feigned ignorance, trying to buy enough time to get her brain to process his request again. Her heart was pounding in her throat and he had to have heard it. “Can you ask me that one more time?”

“Be my date for the Wayne New Year's Eve party.” 

When he repeated it, it sounded less of a request and more of a demand. As though the inconvenience of repeating himself should have been repaid with a ‘yes’ answer regardless of what the question was. Cocky bastard. Raven fought the automatic urge to open a portal to anywhere and shove him in it. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her pounding heart and stared at him, keeping her face expressionless. Just because she was adept at controlling her emotions, it didn’t mean she didn’t have any.  

“What the fuck for? You’re the son of Bruce Wayne. You wake up and trip over people trying to get dates with you. You have a wellspring of viable candidates to choose from for a New Year’s Eve party.” She fought to keep her panic under control, and continued to stare at him, hoping she looked calmer than she felt. “Please don't ask the girl who doesn't know the difference between an oyster fork and an olive fork.”

“Or a dessert fork.” He smirked as he reminded her of the celebratory dinner party the Mayor had in their honor last year, and the horror of some societal elites as Raven ate her salad with a dessert fork. The scandal.

Raven's face fell and she gave him a deadpan stare, but Damian was unaffected. Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The truth is that I need someone I trust to run interference.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate. 

“There are… girls. Women.” He shrugged. “Some men.”

“Yes. That's usually who make up populations of people. Your point?”

“I'm a rich, educated, eligible bachelor.” He groaned and stared up at the ceiling, as if he was ashamed to be direct. “Of marrying age.”

“You forgot good looking.”

Why in the fuck had she admitted that out loud? Raven bit the inside of her cheek to keep from looking embarrassed, but Damian stared at her, and she swore she saw his face flush at least a little. She shrugged, trying to be as objective as possible. “I'm not blind, Damian.” She managed to keep herself from blurting out the rest of that statement: you're drop dead gorgeous and totally stacked - of course people are going to try and at least bang you.

“So what… you want me to lurk in the shadows and scare off anyone you don't approve of? Is there someone specific you're trying to… date? Court?” She rubbed her thumb along her jaw, thinking. “What do rich people from the Hamptons call it? Woo?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Is there a reason you're being so blithe about this?”

“You just asked me to be your pretend girlfriend so that you can avoid talking to people who might want to date you.” She shoved at her hair and crossed her arms over her chest, needing to do something with her hands. “That’s a setup for a bad romance movie.”

He sighed again, obviously frustrated that Raven wasn’t taking his request seriously. Raven couldn’t take his request seriously. The minute she stopped trying to treat his request like a joke, her heart would break into a hundred pieces. She had been harboring feelings for Damian for years, practically since they had been pulled onto the Titans team together. She could keep her feelings under control as long as she kept a heavy barrier of friendship and distance between them. 

But knowingly putting herself into a situation where she had to be a girlfriend - even a pretend one - would force all of those feelings front and center. It would leave an opening for her to confess those feelings, and she would admit to him (and probably all of his family too) that she loved him. If Raven was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to be hurt when Damian ultimately rejected her confession.

She could see the whole scene play out over and over in her mind, and the risk felt far too great. 

“You’re the only one I want to be my date for the party.”

Raven felt like the floor underneath her had just disappeared. Her heart fell into her stomach before leaping back into her chest to pound frantically against her ribs. Damian’s face was unreadable, and he stared at her, his eyes searching her face for something he could read. 

Raven panicked again, trying to find something she could say that would keep her in control. “Is it because you trust me to not fall in love with you?” Because too late, she added within her own thoughts. 

“Because you’re my friend and I trust you. Full stop.” 

The excitement of his words mingled with the pain of the word friend, leaving Raven to feel both elated and disappointed at the same time. But, that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She would rather be safe behind her barrier of friendship, then put herself at risk of a broken heart. But still… if he only considered her a friend, then there was nothing she needed to worry about. She could do this for him, as a friend.  

Rubbing her forehead, she turned and stepped back from him, knowing that her next words were going to be her downfall. 

“Just tell me when I have to meet you, and what the hell I should wear.”

[skeptiquewrites]

Microfic: Champagne

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'champagne supernova' by oasis. cw: alcohol

If Harry had his way, everyone would let each year tip into the next without comment. Instead, the house is overrun with half his Hogwarts year because everyone wants to celebrate with his friends.

Harry wants to join in. Harry wants to leave.

Pansy kisses behind Ginny's ear and leaves a sticky lipstick print. That's new.

Draco pours a flute of champagne for every person in the room before midnight, laughter bright; Lavender is more a hindrance than a help. But if Harry goes downstairs, what's between them won't remain secret much longer. Can't.

Better leave it to next year.

[hoffmannwrites]

On My List

1  - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: Hello, little gay people in my phone!! This is probably my favorite part so far just because it's like so very on brand for them and also we get a little bit of Steve being eye candy and Eddie being a sexy mechanic and I just love them!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, very vague sexy talk (like pg-13 mention of pulling the padge), call him Daddy but in a friendly way ya know, let me know if I missed anything?

Drive

Wayne had a saying while Eddie was growing up. Well, actually, Wayne had a lot of sayings. But one of Eddie’s favorites was “first time is an accident, second time is a coincidence, and third time is a hobby”. For weeks, Eddie ponders what a fourth time is. Because him and Steve have had their mouths on each other four times now and he had no goddamn idea what that meant. Obviously, Steve wasn’t, like, homophobic. He was Robin’s biggest support and he’s never freaked out after any of the times he and Eddie…But the metal head can’t help but wonder what that means. He’s never actually come out or said anything even remotely close to liking a boy. Straight until proven guilty, Eddie liked to believe. Had his heart toyed with by experimenting and down-low boys too many times to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. So Eddie doesn’t say anything- convinces himself that this is just Harrington being comfortable in his masculinity and sexuality. Self-assured enough to know that kissing his guy friend every once in a while isn’t gay, it’s just dudes being bros.

And they were bros! So much so that when Steve’s BMW breaks down around the corner from his own home, that Eddie is the person he calls to help. Steve jogs the block and a half back home and calls two people in quick succession. First is Robin, to let her know that he can’t make it in because something is wrong with his car (“Did you get a flat? Why don’t you know how to fix a flat?” “No, Robs. It’s not that. Yes, I’m sure. No really, I can’t just drive it anyway because it’s fucking smoking.”) Robin agrees to cover for him, but makes the vague threat of him owing her big time. They both know it’s unnecessary because he would do anything for her in a heartbeat regardless.

Second, he calls Eddie. Because Eddie knows about cars. If he can hot-wire a trailer, he can take a look at a smoking BMW. So Eddie drives over and meets Steve around the corner, where he’s sitting on the curb enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. He’s practically sunbathing in his stupid tight acid wash jeans and white tee with the sleeves cuffed and sun glasses on, smoking a cigarette. He looks like an 80’s James Dean but with somehow better hair, Eddie thinks. He rolls down the window of the van and shouts out “Hey! I’m looking for a damsel in distress? About yea high, prettiest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, and no clue how cars work?”

“Ha-Ha, you’re hilarious, Munson,” Steve replies dryly, as Eddie parks the van right in front of the BMW on the side of the road. He gets out and walks over to the beemer to pop the hood. "So you really think I have pretty eyes?" Steve asks while Eddie sets up the hood strut. But Eddie just clears his throat and hopes the blush on his cheeks isn't noticeable. “So you said it was smoking?” He inquires.

“Yeah it just started to smoke, so I panicked and pulled over immediately,” Harrington explains. “Ah,” Eddie nods in acknowledgement. “Good thing too. I’ve got good news and bad news. Bad news is, this” he says dramatically while pulling out a thin black belt from under the hood into the air, complete with frayed ends, “is not supposed to look like that.” Steve’s eyes go wide, automatically freaking out a little because that looks really bad. But before he can completely shit himself, Eddie continues. “Good news is, I can fix it and it’ll only take me about an hour once we get the part.”

“Oh thank Jesus,” Steve let’s out the breath he was holding.

“Not Jesus. Just little ol' me,” smiles Eddie. “However I have been told the resemblance is striking. I think it’s the hair.” He gestures to the van. “Hop in, let’s go get Daddy a new belt, huh?” He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s face heats up at the nickname, but chalks it up to regular embarrassment. Once they’re both in the car and Steve is sure he locked the beemer for the 4th time, they’re on their way to the nearest Northern Automotive. Eddie doesn’t even blast the radio too loud or anything. “Hey, do you need to me to drop you off? Like you were obviously going somewhere so, I can take you if you need and then just fix it on my own,” Eddie offers, realizing this is probably not how Steve wants to spend his day.

“Oh. No. I already called out of work and it’s a Wednesday, so it’s gonna be dead anyway. Honestly, I could use the break and it’s goddamn gorgeous out today, so I don’t mind. Thanks for asking, though. Are you sure you’re okay spending the day fixing my car?” Steve asks, suddenly aware that he never really asked Eddie to fix it, just take a look and the metal head just lept into action.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine. I was actually super busy smoking weed by myself, jerking off, and watching M.A.S.H. reruns, but it’s alright I guess I can reschedule those super important plans,” Eddie dramatically sighs. Steve smiles wide. “Good to know that you jerk off before watching M.A.S.H. I’d be totally concerned if that was what got you going.”

“Actually, Stevie, I’ll have you know that Alan Alda gets me all kinds of hot and bothered, thank you very much.” 

By the time they have arrived back at the car, the sun is hot in the middle of the sky. They got the new belt needed and some Burger King and a case of beer on their way back too, at Steve’s insistence. He tried to offer Eddie money for fixing the car, but the makeshift mechanic refused. “You literally saved my life. I can fix your car,” he had said, blankly, but Steve decided he could at least feed him. Eddie had scarfed down his Whopper on the way back, and got started on the car immediately.

Steve tried to be helpful, handing over a wrench or a beer every now and then. He even gave Eddie a hair tie to put up all those beautiful curls. Mostly though, Steve just watched. Watched Eddie’s arms flex around metal. Watched his tongue stuck between his teeth while he looked at his work in concentration. Watched as his hairline dripped a fine line of sweat down the side of his neck, and disappeared under the collar of his Pantera t-shirt. Watched his ass and that stupid black hanky in his left pocket. Steve just watched Eddie work and thought about how he could get used to seeing the older man sweaty and dirty, as long as he wasn’t bleeding out like that time Steve saw him so filthy. Sure, they talked too, but Steve could barely pay attention to the conversation because he was so focused on just how fucking pretty Eddie looked.

Eventually, the belt was fixed and Eddie slammed down the hood, startling Steve out of his very unholy reverie about all the other ways to make Eddie sweat. “Alright, Big Boy. Let’s give her a test, make sure she starts up for ya nice, and drive her around the block a few times.” Steve jumped up from his spot on the curb and hopped in the drivers seat, put the key in the ignition and turned.

“Beautiful!” Eddie practically shouted, jumping in the passengers side as the car sprang to life perfectly. “Now let’s drive her around a little, make sure she’s all set.” Steve did as he was told and took the car around the neighborhood in complete silence, as Eddie made sure everything sounded, looked, and even smelled correct (“If it sounded wrong, I’d know it. If it smelled wrong, I’d know it. And if it started smoking again, I’d definitely know it,” he insisted).

They pulled back over to where Eddie’s van was. “Man, you have no idea how much I appreciate this,” Steve said when they were parked. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now.”

“Alright, if you insist,” Eddie replied with a theatrical eye roll. He pursed his lips and shut his eyes comically, expecting Steve to laugh him off and shove him away. Instead he felt two soft hands grab the side of his face and an even softer pair of lips on his own. And for just a second, in the silence of Steve Harrington’s BMW, Eddie felt like he was melting way more than he had standing out in the sun. Steve pulled away, hands still on his friends face. “You wouldn’t let me pay you, so that’ll have to do.”

You’d think that after weeks of overthinking the last four times this had happened that Eddie would have had anything worth while to say, that he would have seized the moment and asked Harrington just what the fuck was going on in his head. But he was Eddie Munson. So of course, he made a joke out of it. “I’m not sure what the exchange rate is on that right now, but I think we’re even,” he said feigning confidence, shifting his eyes as far away from Steve’s as possible, and scrambling out of the car as quickly as he could all while trying to not look suspicious. He held the door open and bid Steve good bye, “I won’t tell Robin that you can totally go to work now, by the way. See ya around, sweets.” And with that, Eddie was in his van and speeding away, blasting the radio by the time he got to the end of the block.

Steve had intended on asking Eddie to come back to his house for a while and maybe, finally, get somewhere with the metal head, after dancing around each other for so long, thought he had sealed it with today’s kiss. But Eddie had left so abruptly, that Steve didn’t even get the chance. Obviously, Eddie was totally freaked out by Harrington’s forwardness. He sighed loudly and cursed to himself, driving to Family Video anyway because he needed to talk to Robin. 

A/N:

Steve's car is a 1983 BMW 733i in Burgendrot-Metallic.

Apparently, the thing that holds up a cars hood is called a few things, mainly a hood prop or hood strut. From what I could find, BMW uses the phrase hood strut.

Also apparently, only a BMW motorcycle is called a Beemer, while the cars are "bimmers". But as both a person who has never heard that before, and a German speaker, I have decided that is fucking stupid and I won't be calling it that.

Once again, I don’t know shit about fuck about cars. I only know this because one time my serpentine belt broke. It’s a pretty quick fix if you know what you’re doing (allegedly) and you can drive short distances with a broken belt, but it’s not recommended. I have no idea if Steve’s car would be as easy to fix as mine was. Hell, his model might not even have a serpentine belt. Don’t know, don’t really care. I’m a fanfiction writer, not a mechanic. 

Northern Automotive was the most popular auto parts store in 1988 according to a news article I found on Reddit. I have never heard of this store, have no idea if they were in Indiana at the time (I mean, they should have been. Indiana is pretty fuckin Northern if you ask me) , and it looks like they either went out of business or rebranded to North Auto Parts at some point. Who’s to say? 

M.A.S.H. went off air in 1983, after 11 seasons in as many years. It’s a Korean War drama/comedy and it is one of the most amazing and heartfelt shows ever made. Eddie grew up watching it with Wayne and now he watches the reruns whenever they're on. I strongly recommend you watch it. 

I asked my mom what food she ate in the 80s. She said BK (like enthusiastically, too). Here we are. 

[jadedvibes]

The imagery, the emotions, the yearning, the way they’re already in love, I’m just 😭🥺 this was simply wonderful! 👏🏼🖤✨

New Year's Day | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Happy New Year('s Eve)! I'm not sure if its NYE where you are or if the clock has already struck midnight. Regardless, have a great 2023! I am hanging out with my parents and I will be kissing no one at midnight. Look out 2023, I'm wild.

Warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of anxiety, idiots in love

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor

You and me, forevermore"

...

Bucky didn’t like parties. It wasn’t that he hated celebrations, nor was he a “fun crusher” as Tony often called him. He just didn’t like the crowds, the noise. Large social gatherings made him uncomfortable. And he had plenty reason to stay far away from any get-together of more than a handful of people. I

But this party- this was the exception. It was the New Year’s bash, the party of all parties. It was supposed to celebrate the end of the tumultuous twelve months you’d faced, and usher in a- hopefully better- year to come. 

Throngs of people planned to gather in a luxe penthouse in Manhattan and party until sunup. And while that wasn’t usually Bucky’s idea of a good time, he wanted this night to be special.

On more occasions than he could count, you sat out of Tony’s parties because of Bucky. You stayed home while everyone you knew- and many you didn’t- had the time of their lives. And while you never complained, Bucky feared you’d resent him. That you’d get tired of coddling him and his anxiety. 

Not that you’d ever feel that way about him. You stayed home from every party because you wanted to, not out of obligation. You wanted to be with Bucky. And if that meant foregoing a Stark party, you didn’t mind. Even if you went without Bucky, you knew you wouldn’t have any fun. You’d spend the entire night missing him, wishing he was there. Attending Tony’s parties wasn’t worth it unless Bucky was there, too.

With the NYE party looming over him, Bucky decided he needed to attend. He knew you wanted to go. Any time someone mentioned it, you perked up. It was subtle, but Bucky noticed. He knew you were itching to celebrate the new year and party till sunup with the rest of the team. And while just the thought of fireworks and large crowds was enough to make him sweat, he was determined to make it work.

Plus, he wanted to kiss you at midnight. He wanted to ring in the new year with your lips pressed to his. He wanted to stand on the balcony overlooking the city with you- just you- and tell you how he felt about you.

But asking you to be his date proved harder than he expected.

“I think we should go to the party,” he told you one day over lunch. “It sounds fun.” 

A blank stare stole the light from your eyes. You blinked once. Twice. “Okay, wait. I’m sorry- what? Did you just way you wanted to go to a party?” You laughed, “are you on drugs?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “No, I’m not on drugs, doll.” He chucked his balled-up straw wrapper at you and made you squeal. “I wanna go- with you, I mean. I want us to celebrate the fact that we somehow made it through this fucking year alive.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Between the Flag Smashers, a slew of nightmarish missions, and a nearly fatal run in with a Zola apologist, the past twelve months hadn’t treated either of you with kindness. You’d reached your quota on near-death experiences and stays in the med bay- but you survived. And Bucky wanted to commemorate it. 

He gave you an expectant look, “What do you think? You wanna go together?”

You let out an excited laugh- a scream, really. “Hell yeah, Barnes- Oh, I have to text Wanda!” The clicking of your nails against your screen echoed through the space as you fired off a message to Wanda. “She, Nat, Maria, and Sam are going as a group! I bet we can tag along.”

It sounded fun, but Bucky wanted to smack himself upside the head. Of course, you didn’t realize he intended it to be a date; he never actually said the words. All he said was that you should go together- but the two of you went everywhere together. Based on the way he phrased his statement, this was no different than his request for you to accompany him to Trader Joe’s. 

It would’ve been an easy fix. A quick, “Would you like to be my date?” would surely correct the situation in less than a minute. But Bucky was already in too deep. He’d worked up all his courage and spent it on asking you- incorrectly- to accompany him. And now his tank was empty. And he couldn’t retroactively ask you to be his date now; it would seem like an afterthought. You were never an afterthought.

“Wanda said we can go with them,” you shot Bucky a warm smile. “I’m so happy we’re going!”

“Good. Me too.” He matched your smile, regardless of the anxiety eating away at his insides.

Without warning, you grabbed Bucky’s hand. “I know you’re not really much of a party guy, though, so we’ll just play it by ear, alright? If at any point you wanna leave, that’s totally fine.”

Bucky gave you an overly casual shrug, “Oh, don’t worry about me, doll. I’m-”

“There’s gonna be fireworks…”

Bucky nodded.

“Are you sure you wanna go?” Your eagerness to attend Tony’ party disappeared at you thought about Bucky’s past. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable- even for a second. “We could get away from the city for the night, instead. Maybe stay at Clint’s cabin?”

Bucky gave your hand a squeeze, “I’ll be okay. I promise. How bad could it be?” The words ‘will you be my date?’ swarmed inside Bucky’s head like a cloud of angry bees; he could barely hear you over the buzzing. Lunch ended without him asking, without you agreeing to be his date. 

Bucky found the answer to his question the moment he stepped into the party. How bad could it be? Bad. 

Hordes of people, loud music, champagne bottles popping at every turn. Cameras flashed left and right. Glitter and confetti littered the floor, making it slick as you walked through the crowd. Bucky was nearly sweating through his suit jacket. Drunk partygoers stumbled into the two of you time and time again. And while Bucky didn’t like being touched by strangers, he wanted to take the brunt. He didn’t want anyone knocking you down or stepping on your feet. 

He was uncomfortable to say the least. Just like he knew he would be. Just like you feared. Part of him wished he’d opted for the cabin getaway you offered at lunch. But you grounded him. Every time you looked at him, every time you laughed at one of his jokes or rested your hand on his arm, his world righted itself. You helped him find solace, peace- even amongst the chaos.

And though he’d seen you dressed up before, this way different. He loved way your shimmering gold dress caught the light. He loved the glittery make up that adorned your skin. You were radiant. Breathtaking. Perfect in every way. Hundreds of people filled the penthouse, but he only saw you. Only you mattered. 

“You good?” you shouted to Bucky over the roar of the crowd.

He nodded. “Why?”

“You’re staring”, you yelled. “I thought I had something in my teeth!” 

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh that got lost in the noise of the party. He shook his head and brought his lips to your ear, speaking so that only you could hear him. “You just look really beautiful. That’s all.”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. You couldn’t believe someone as perfect as him thought you were beautiful. He looked so good, so unbelievably handsome- it shouldn’t have been allowed. The way his suit fit his body nearly made you salivate. And thought you’d seen him in it before when you helped him pick it out, it still made you weak in the knees. It was the perfect material to compliment the dress you and Wanda selected for you to wear. 

And you knew the fabric would feel incredible as you gripped his lapels and pulled him in for a New Year’s kiss. 

Everything seemed to be going your way for once. Every time you had the chance to tell Bucky how you felt, something sabotaged you. Bucky was always getting phone calls from Fury at the wrong times, and Wanda’s unannounced drop-ins coincided with your confession on more than one occasion. Part of you worried that it was the universe’s way of telling you not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t have feelings for you. Maybe you were better off as friends. 

But you had to try, didn’t you?

“Hey, Buck. I was wondering if-”

Bucky couldn’t focus. He knew you were talking to him, knew that he needed to pay attention. But all he could think about was kissing you. Inhaling you. Making you his. He’d been through enough waking nightmares that nothing scared him anymore- except you. Why was he so nervous? He could run into gunfire and jump out of planes but telling you how he felt flooded his system with fear. 

He couldn’t do this. His brain screamed at him to abort the mission. 

“I’m gonna run- um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he suddenly blurted out. “Be back in a minute.”

Before you knew what happened, he dashed through the crowd and disappeared. You stood on the dance floor- alone- with strangers bumping into you every few seconds. This had to be cosmic sabotage; the universe clearly didn’t want you to be with Bucky. But you didn’t care. You’d had just enough liquid courage to give you the tenacity you needed. The universe could get fucked, in your opinion. You balked in the face of fate and destiny and divine intervention and set off in Bucky’s direction.

He leaned over the bathroom counter and splashed cool water on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his tie askew. This was just sad. Pathetic. He was the Winter fucking Soldier- why was he scared of something so normal? So low stakes? People did this every day; they kissed the people they loved. But to him, this wasn’t normal. And the stakes had never been higher. He never thought he’d find such a great friend- and definitely never thought he’d fall so deeply in love with her. 

He wasn’t prepared for it, didn’t know how to handle these feelings. And if his confession of love or his request for a midnight kiss scared you away, he’d never forgive himself. There were plenty of reasons for you not to want Bucky romantically, so many that he couldn’t even list them all. And of course, you’d let him down gently. You’d be kind about it and would never make him feel bad. But he knew it would change your dynamic forever, and he didn’t know if he could stomach that reality. He couldn’t let you become a stranger.

Partygoers eyed you as you searched high and low for Bucky. They gave you weird looks and whispered about you as you called out his name. They must’ve thought you were an obsessed ex or a crazy fangirl- some of them probably wondered why you were allowed into the party. But you didn’t give a fuck. You were going to find Bucky if it was the last thing you did. 

Things got quieter as you moved farther from the massive crowd. Soft music played, you spotted Tony and Pepper sweet talking one another in a quiet corner. Finally, you could hear yourself think. But it was 11:58, and this penthouse was bigger that your childhood home. There was no way you were going to be able to find Bucky in time.

But you weren’t going to give up. As you rounded the corner down a long hallway, a wall of muscle bumped into you. Its mass nearly sent you crashing to the floor, until an arm wound around your waist. “Oh, shit- sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Bucky saved you from falling and pulled you close to his body. “Are you alright?”

There was no time for small talk or pleasantries, you had a mission- and your time to accomplish it was running out. “Buck, would you be my New Year’s kiss?”

Bucky stared at you, “What?”

“There’s like-” you checked your phone, “there’s like less than two minutes till the ball drops and I- do you want to kiss me at midnight? Yes or no?”

Bucky gave you a smile and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Doll, you’re drunk-”

“I’m not. We both know I’m not.” He was trying to get out of it- to find an excuse, wasn’t he? Embarrassment flared inside your chest. 

Bucky could’ve suffocated in the tension. His heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears it drowned out the music. The raucous crowd.

“It feels embarrassing to ask a third time, but you haven’t technically answered, so-”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. He gave the area a cursory glance and found it less enchanting than he would’ve liked for such an important moment. “But, don’t you wanna go back to the party and see the ball drop? Or stand on the balcony to watch the fireworks?”

“No. I wanna be here. With you.”

The crowd began their countdown.

“FIVE…”

And all Bucky could do was stare at you. “FOUR…”

He hated that he ran away, that he lost his nerve.

“THREE…”

But here you were. 

“TWO…”

Because you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“ONE…”

And he was going to get his wish

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

People cheered, music blared, fireworks exploded. But neither of you noticed

Bucky took your face in his hands and brought your lips to his. It was the kiss you’d always dreamed of. The one you waited your entire life for. Your mom always said that when you found the right person, you’d know just by kissing them. And while you’d known Bucky was your person since you met him, this just confirmed it. 

Kissing him stole your breath- but gave you life at the same time. Was it possible that you’d been holding your breath your entire life, just waiting for this moment?

An intense warmth filled your every cell and lightning struck in your chest. You melted. He knew exactly what you wanted and gave it to you without hesitation. And just as you suspected, the fabric of his lapels felt incredible in your hands as you tried to pull him closer. But there was no ‘closer’. Any closer, and the two of you would become one.

Bucky could’ve died right then. If this was what awaited him over the past hundred years, he was glad he lived so long. You were worth it- all the pain and suffering and sadness. You were worth all of it. 

When you finally pulled away, no one spoke; you weren’t sure you remembered how to. And Bucky was too lost in the taste of your lips to conjure words. It didn’t matter that you were in a random hallway or that several hundred people were screaming Don’t Stop Believin’ just a few rooms away. This was private. Intimate. Just you and Bucky. As it always should’ve been.

“NEW YEARS SHOTS!” Nat yelled as she and Sam barreled into you, knocking you further into Bucky’s grasp. “We’re all doing shots! Happy fucking new year!”

You eyed Bucky, “Um… that’s okay, Nat. I think we’re just gonna-”

Nat put you in an arm bar and marched you toward the alcohol. “If you don’t do a New Year’s shot, it’s bad luck! You wanna end up dead at the bottom of a cliff or something?” She pushed you in the direction of the bar, separating you from Bucky.

Sam nudged Bucky with his shoulder and motioned for him to wipe your lipstick off his face. 

“Finally kissed her, huh?”

Bucky nodded.

“Can’t believe it took you that long- you’ve been making googly eyes at her forever-”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “alright, alright. I haven’t been ‘making googly eyes.’”

Sam gave a laugh that echoed down the hall, “yes you have, Barnes, stop lying to yourself. They pop out of your skull every time you look at her.”

Bucky gave Sam a very shiny middle finger.

The party wound down with you managing to get away with taking only one shot. Getting drunk didn’t seem like the best idea, not when a very important conversation with Bucky loomed on the horizon.

He stayed close to you for the remainder of the party, staring at you like you hung the moon. He craved the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin. Part of him feared that this was all a dream, that he’d wake up on the floor of his shitty apartment. Alone. Missing you. 

But no matter how many times he pinched himself, things remained the same. 

The DJ packed up and went home. Most of the partygoers flooded through the lobby and into taxis. Only the team remained. Tony, Nat, and Maria drank and laughed. Wanda taught Sam her “rave hands” as he often called them. And you rested on the couch, leaning against Bucky. 

“Hey… doll, you still with me?” he gave your hand a squeeze and roused you from your slumber. “You wanna just stay here tonight? Stark said there’s a bunch of empty rooms.”

You blinked your eyes clear and gave your head a shake. “What? No, I’m good. I’m fine. You forced a smile and struggled to get your eyes to focus, “Not even tired.”

Bucky laughed, “You were literally just asleep on my arm.”

“I was not,” you said. “I can hang!”

Bucky gave you an affectionate eyeroll and laughed at your protests. You absolutely could not ‘hang’, especially not with Tony, Nat, Sam, and Wanda. They were the partiers of the group. You, on the other hand, were a lightweight. 

“Well, I cannot hang,” Bucky yawned. He knew just how to get to you, “So I was just gonna sleep here. But, by all means, you stay up with the crazies. I’ll see you-”

“Oh, well in that case…” Spending the night with Bucky sounded like the perfect way to start the new year. “Yeah, I’ll just sleep here, too.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out of Bucky’s chest as he helped you from the couch. He wound an arm around you and pulled you into his side with a quiet “come on”. And the two of you took a stroll through the penthouse. Bucky ensured you didn’t fall when your heel caught the lip of a marble stair, and he kept you upright when exhaustion tried to pull you down. 

He made you feel safe. Taken care of. Protected. 

“Here we go,” Bucky flipped on the light of a lavish bedroom and motioned for you to enter first. 

You flopped on the bed with a loud sigh and allowed Bucky to help you free your feet from your uncomfortable shoes. Everything after was a blur, as though laying down for a split second turned your brain off completely. 

Bucky helped you under the covers and made sure you were cozy. He placed your phone on a charger. And when he was sure you were settled, he pressed a goodnight kiss to your forehead. While he wanted to climb in bed with you, he wasn’t sure it was right. Yes, he’d shared a bed with you a few times. But that was before he kissed you.

He decided that sleeping elsewhere was his best bet. It guaranteed that you’d feel safe and comfortable when you woke the next morning. But as he turned to leave, you hand exploded from beneath the sheets and snatched at his wrist.

“Where’reyougoin?” You words were clumsy and tired, but Bucky understood. 

He rested a hand on yours before gently removing it from his wrist. He tucked it back under the covers with the utmost care, and left another kiss on your forehead. “I was just- I was gonna find another room…”

This woke you. Suddenly, your eyes flew open. You were fully alert. Almost alarmed. You wanted Bucky by your side- always. And he’d already kissed you, what difference did sharing a bed make?

“Would you stay, Buck? Please?”

“Of course, doll. If that’s what you want”. He ran a hand through his hair, “But, are you sure? You’ve been drinking, and I-”

“I had a total of three drinks over the course of like…” you struggled to do the math in your foggy, tired brain. “Um, like, six hours. I’m not even near drunk. I’m just tired.” Once again, your hand escaped the covers and made a grab for Bucky’s arm. You gave his sleeve a gentle tug, “No pressure if you don’t wanna sleep in here with me. But if you want to, I’d be more than okay with that.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. This was all he wanted. While your kiss at midnight was, indeed, incredible, he didn’t crave moments like that. He wasn’t after the sensational. He wanted quiet, vulnerable intimacy with you. He wanted to hold you when you’d had a rough day. To share a bed with you every night. 

And at your invitation, he joined you.

He shed his jacket, tie, shoes, and belt, and climbed into bed. Normally, he slept in just underwear. But stripping down to his briefs felt like the wrong move. He’d sleep in his dress pants and his button down- no matter how uncomfortable it was- just to make sure you felt safe.

You wriggled in your dress and tried to get comfortable. It was tight in all the wrong places, the fabric itched. But you couldn’t shimmy out of your dress and sleep in just your underwear- not when you weren’t even sure how Bucky felt about you. He’d planned to sleep in another room, and it took him three tries to agree to kiss you. Maybe he didn’t like you that way. And if that were the case, keeping your clothes on was the least you could do.

“Goodnight, Barnes,” you yawned.

“Goodnight, Doll.”

“Yo, checkout in ten,” Tony called from the hallway. “Get up and get out.”

Bucky woke with a start, nearly headbutting you. Your face rested inches from his. His metal arm draped over your side. Your hands laid on his chest. 

He couldn’t wake you- not yet. He needed to drink in the moment. You slept peacefully, your hair messy and your make up smudged. This was what he’d always dreamed of, what he feared he’d never get. But here you were. And you were prefect. 

“Hey, sweetheart…” Bucky swept a thumb over your cheek a few times, “we gotta head out.”

Against your will, you stirred. It was too early, and you were far too tired. You snuggled closer to Bucky, nearly bringing your lips to his.

He ran a hand up and down your spine and tried again, “Doll, we gotta get up.”

With a groan, you pried your eyes open. But seeing Bucky first thing in the morning perked you up better than coffee.

 “Good morning, Barnes.”

“Good morning, doll…”

He wanted to kiss you- but a sudden epiphany hit him like a train. What if that kiss was a one-time thing? What if you just wanted him for New Years- nothing more? The thought pulled Bucky from your side. He shrunk away and slipped out of bed. If he was never going to kiss you again, he needed to escape the intimacy you shared. It was a method of protection, of self-preservation. Otherwise, he’d drown in his longing for you.

“Stark said we have to be out in ten minutes, so…”

It was odd, the way he snaked out of bed so quickly after you woke. No good morning kiss. No soft touches. Nothing. But apparently, there was a ticking clock. The two of you had ten minutes to get out of the luxurious penthouse and rejoin the real world. And though you would’ve preferred a nice, slow morning with Bucky, you had a time limit. 

You wriggled out of bed and took inventory or your appearance. Your dress was completely cockeyed and crooked from a night of sleep. Your hair was a mess. And your aching feet were covered in red spots and blisters. 

“Not to be that girl, but I’m not putting these things back on,” you said to Bucky, taking your shoes in your hand. “Walk of shame vibes for me today.”

Bucky gave you a quiet laugh as he righted his shirt and put on his belt. Something about him seemed off. He was quieter than usual, not as warm. Clearly, he regretted the kiss, and now he felt uncomfortable around you. You kicked yourself for jeopardizing what you had with him. Why did you have to be greedy? Why did you have to ask for more? Things were good as they were- great, even. And yet, you couldn’t resist screwing them up.

A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes. You were exhausted, hungry, and definitely dehydrated. You dug into your purse in search of advil, but a memento from the night before distracted you. You’d slipped it into your purse and forgotten all about it. Until now.

Bucky caught you smiling down at your bag, “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, um…” your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. It was too late to come up with a lie- Bucky saw the smitten look on your face. “It’s just this. Here…” You reached over the bed and dropped a polaroid on the sheets in front of him. “Wanda took it last night.”

It was a picture of the two of you; Bucky staring at you with an adoring smile while you threw your head back in laughter. It was the perfect encapsulation of your relationship. Bucky wished he had a copy of his own. He’d take it home, put it in a frame. He wanted more- more photos with you. More moments like this.

He stared down at it, letting the frozen moment in time wash over him. And then- “Why did you kiss me?” It was abrupt. And awkward. Bucky regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth. But he needed to know.

“What? Oh, did you not want me too?” Regret pooled in your chest. Had you violated him? Coerced him into kissing you when he didn’t want to? 

“No, I- I wanted you to.” Was he really going to do this now when you were both exhausted and still wearing the previous night’s clothes? His talent for finding terrible timing truly was impressive. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. A really long time.”

“Oh,” your stomach did a backflip. “Okay, well-”

“I just need to know why you kissed me,” Bucky said. His words picked up in pace, his hand developed a slight tremor. He was nervous, really nervous. “Did it mean something to you? Or was it just a New Year’s thing? Cause if it was just because you wanted to kiss someone at midnight, I get it. And that’s totally fine. I just-”

“It wasn’t just a New Year’s thing.”

The two of you stared at each other from across the bed. But it felt like he was miles away. Slowly, you took a few steps in his direction. “I mean, yeah, I wanted to kiss you at midnight- but I mean, I wanna kiss you all the time.“

Bucky’s heart stopped.

“Buck, I’ve wanted you- wanted to be with you- ever since we met. I want to be yours. I want to kiss you- not just at midnight. Not just on New Years.” You took another cautious step, careful not to spook him. “I just didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You can’t scare me off."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. "Oh. Well, good. Cause I think we're pretty fucking great together."

Bucky couldn't disagree. You brought out the best in each other. You cared for each other. Bucky trusted you more than he trusted anyone else, and you felt the same. The connection you shared couldn't be broken or damaged.

But Bucky couldn't escape the doubt that chipped away at his resolve. You'd spent a perfect night together and woke up tangled in each other's arms. Surely, you were just letting the previous night's festivities get to you. Influence you.

"You know, I think we should just talk about this another time- tomorrow maybe?" Bucky said. "We're both tired- and I don't want you to say anything you might regret-"

"No. I love you." Your words were steady. Even. No sign of uncertainty or question. "I know what I'm saying. I won't regret it-"

"Doll-"

Bucky didn't want to stop you; he'd dreamt of hearing you say these things since you met. But he needed you to take pause. He needed you to be sure. If you were still under the influence of the perfect night you shared, it would be easy to let those feelings cloud your judgement. He knew he couldn't handle it if, in a few days, you revoked everything you said.

"Buck, listen to me: I've known for a long time that I love you. And every time I try to tell you, something gets in the way. For a while I thought it was the universe trying to tell me that we're not supposed to be together, but-"

"Fuck the universe."

Bucky closed the gap between your bodies and pressed your lips against his. His hands grasped your waist, tangled in your hair. It was desperate and hungry and left you seeing stars.

He pulled away and stared at you. Watched you catch your breath. He kicked himself for trying to stop you, for doubting you.

“I didn’t mean to run from you last night," Bucky said. The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he intended. "But, I panicked- I promised myself I'd ask you to be my date to the party and that we'd kiss at midnight. And I swore I'd finally tell you that I love you...”

Finally, he said the words. You breathed a sigh of relief and felt the knot in your stomach untangle itself. "You love me, huh?"

He nodded. "A lot. But I let the party get to me. I wasn't exactly comfortable with all the people and the noise and- I lost my nerve."

You took his face in your hands and brought his forehead to yours. "Hey, that's okay. I wasn't going down without a fight, anyway." You thought back on the night before, on the ridiculous way you'd run through the party in search of Bucky. "I chased after you like a madwoman. People probably thought I was a crazy stalker you or something."

Bucky laughed and pulled you tight to his body, “well, thanks for looking crazy just for me, doll.”

"Any time, Buck. Happy New Year."

He pulled you in for another kiss, knowing that there would be many more to come this year. More sleepovers. More photos. More moments spent wrapped in one another.

"Happy New Year, baby"

————————————

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[bloodydeanwinchester]

ive still got quite a few hours til it’s midnight for me but i want to say that i had so much fun with you all in 2023. whether we’re mutuals or if you follow me or i follow you i just want to say that im so glad we got to spend this year together and i hope we get to keep doing it and having more fun times together next year. i really truly appreciate all of you 🥰

[billdenbrough]

END OF YEAR TRUTHS

aftg · kevaaron · 7.8k, t, for @naturecalls111 & @vykio it's the end of the year, all of kevin’s usual dogs are gone, and aaron has a lot to think about.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs. Part of him wants to say, I hope you know what you’re doing, and another part thinks, What am I doing?, but most of him is sinking into the moment, hips heavy with Kevin’s hands, thinking, We made it. We’re going to make it to next year. Not everyone did. But Aaron did, Kevin did, everyone they give a fuck about did, except for those who were lost long ago. And now Kevin’s fingers are in Aaron’s belt loops, pulling him closer, and his thumbs are brushing over Aaron’s skin, searing right through him, and Aaron’s hands are curling around Kevin’s biceps, Kevin’s breath hitching, and Aaron’s tilting his head to look up at Kevin, and Kevin – Kevin is already looking at him, eyes dark, lidded, intent. “Dancing,” Kevin says, a beat too late. Aaron has to think for a second to remember what he’s even answering. “Dancing,” Aaron echoes. It’s true, technically. In Eden’s, this level of contact with someone else on the dancefloor probably wouldn’t give Aaron pause. But it’s not someone else. It’s Kevin.

read on ao3

[deansbaby-1967]

Ok, this was wholesome AF & now I feel all warm & fuzzy & squishy, but I'm also cackling at one part in particular:

"Well let me know if you want to change that."

"The killing him part or the kiss?"

"I haven't had one in a while, so keep me posted,"

"Haven't committed a murder or given a kiss in a while?"

I'm cackling because this is exactly how my awkward ass would've responded in that situation! I am terrible at reading signals, & I pretty much always automatically assume that the other person is not flirting with me (I've been in a relationship for 2½ years & I still occasionally check in that they actually like like me, thank you trauma), so I unironically feel the need to make absolutely sure we're on the same page & I'm not misreading the situation, so to see Reader do this just made me laugh, & weirdly made the immersion of the story even better for me, because it was like reading my own thoughts.

Anyway, I loved this! Thanks for sharing!

Some Bucky to brighten your day. ❤️

Last First Kiss

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Excessive fluff, first kisses, soft Bucky in Louisiana for New Year's Eve.

Word Count: 600

A/N: Thank you for this sweet @navybrat817. This truly brightened my day and inspired a nye drabble! Hope everyone has a very Happy New Year! 💙✨

“So a little birdie told me you’ve never had a new year’s kiss…” Bucky leaned against the wood railing beside you, taking in the sunset on the bayou.

Your eyes widened before you took a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill him.” Ever the meddler, Sam would tell your secret to the first guy you’d liked in a long time. 

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” he let out a laugh. “Sam always knows the exact right thing to do to get under your skin, it’s a gift really.” 

You shrugged casually. “He overheard me telling Sarah. It’s no big deal.” It really wasn’t, but you knew why Sam was annoyingly butting in. He’d also heard you telling his sister about how smitten you were with his dark-haired best friend. 

“Well let me know if you want to change that.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, a small smile playing at your lips. There was no way. “The killing him part or the kiss?” 

Bucky smirked, charmed and hopeful that you’d agree. “I haven’t had one in a while, so keep me posted,” he checked his watch. Only a few more hours until midnight. The Wilson household had planned a lowkey evening for the kids later, and the both of you would be in attendance. 

He’d secretly had a crush on you for a little longer than you had on him and with Sam’s encouragement he figured there was no better time to do something about it.

“Haven’t committed a murder or given a kiss in a while?” You smiled sheepishly, trying awfully hard to deflect. Of all the reactions to finding out you’d never had a new year’s kiss, this was the last one you expected. Sam’s best friend, a guy you thought was off-limits, offering to change things for you.

He let out a laugh, you were too adorable. “Think about it, sweetheart. I hear it’s good luck,” he playfully shot you a wink before heading back to the barbeque. 

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you turned back to look at the setting sun over the calm waters. Colorful, peaceful, and captivating.

Later that night.

Sam nudged Sarah before shouting. “Guys it's 12:04, you’ve rung in the new year! You can break it up now.”

Grinning against Bucky’s lips, you felt your cheeks warm again. Busted.

Bucky begrudgingly pulled away from you, turning to glare at Sam. “Just getting as much luck from this as we can, man. Feel free to look away,” he muttered breathlessly before meeting your gaze with a soft shy smile. His thumb stroked your jawline, noting how beautiful you were up close. 

He went from menacing to cute in a split second. How did he do that? It didn’t really matter because the way he looked at you, well you sure could get used to it. 

“Yeah, look somewhere else,” you teasingly scowled at Sam before tugging at Bucky's henley and kissing him again. He cupped your face and poured himself into the kiss. He thought he was out of practice, but it surprised him how easily he fell back into step with you. Soft and sweeter than anything you could’ve imagined. Warm and careful with just the right amount of desire to leave you aching. Nothing you could have expected, yet everything you silently wished for. 

Neither of you knew it then, but what a lucky year it would turn out to be. Never did you imagine that the man that would be your first new year’s kiss would also be your last; for many years in between, and every day after. 

[neontoad]

“There is nothing in this life that makes it…”

Chuuya rolls his eyes and takes a drag of his cigarette, turning a deaf ear to Dazai’s yapping. He leans his back against the crane frame and squints his eyes at the lights of boats peppering Yokohama Bay like stars. Their little hiding point on the top of the port crane provides a perfect view of the vast and mighty sea they both adore but still… The night is cold and not particularly pleasant. Especially with Dazai babbling away about the meaninglessness of life, a pesky mosquito clad in black he has the misfortune to call his almost-friend. 

Pathetic. 

Still, even that is better than spending New Year’s Eve alone. 

He glances at his watch. Just a few more minutes until midnight. Until the date changes — and nothing else, really.

New Year is not a big deal.

Then why does it feel like it should be?

“If I were to jump off- oh!”

The genuine surprise in Dazai’s voice makes Chuuya’s head snap. He has to do a double take — Dazai looks ridiculous and almost human with his eyes crossed as he’s looking at a… large snowflake resting on the tip of his nose.

The snowflake melts almost instantly, leaving just a wet spot behind.

In unison, the boys raise their heads as they watch thousands of snowflakes descend on the city in an intricate waltz, the first snow deciding to grace the city in the last moments of the old year. 

Chuuya’s wristwatch beeps. 

And… it all changes.

As the snow continues to fall, Chuuya can’t get enough of the way little snowflakes stay on Dazai’s eyelashes, diamonds on the dark backdrop dissolving into nothing and quickly replaced by new, somehow even shinier ones. Dazai keeps grunting and trying to sweep the snow off the top of his head, and Chuuya has to resist the urge to grab his wrist and let the snowflakes linger on the dark brown strands for a bit longer. On the other hand… there is something precious in such fleeting, momentary beauty. 

The stray snowflakes on Dazai’s fringe twinkle under the crane lights, and it’s such a mesmerising sight, that Chuuya feels like his gravity is reduced to nothing as he floats in the galaxy of shimmering stars, lost in the shine so bright, he never wants to be found.  

Chuuya is brought back to reality when Dazai, ridiculously red-faced, lightly punches his shoulder and hands him a wrinkled plastic cup of o-toso sake. Their fingers brush when Chuuya takes the cup from Dazai’s hand, and he can swear that Dazai’s usually cold fingers are almost scorching hot — the fire Chuuya’d gladly embrace.

They clink their cups and Chuuya’s heart skips a beat at Dazai’s faint, sincere smile. 

“Happy New Year, Chuuya.”

“Happy New Year… Osamu.”

[hoffmannwrites]

On My List

1  - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note:

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, musical theater (yes, that gets it's own warning), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

Suddenly, Seymour

By the time their 4th kiss rolls around, Steve is starting to think that maybe he hallucinated the whole fucking thing. Eddie hasn’t made a single move or mentioned any of the kisses at all to Steve since NYE. Even Robin had gone from “Oh my god, he’s totally into you” to “well, you know how Eddie is. He loves to cause chaos.”  Eddie and Steve still see each other regularly, usually at least once a week on their own volition and a couple times in between while driving around the children. And in the almost month that had past, not once has Eddie even hinted at anything happening between them.

So, Steve did what he did best and pushed it all down and focused on anything else other than the metal head. This focus included helping Dustin audition for the school musical, Little Shop of Horrors.  Steve didn’t know much about acting and his singing knowledge was limited to what he learned as a kid in church choir, but he was very good at critiquing Dustin. Steve even watched the movie with Rick Moranis and everything so he knew what was going on in the musical and how it should feel (and totally not because he thought Steve Martin looked kinda hot in the leather jacket with the motorcycle even if he was a piece of shit).

Dustin was auditioning for the lead, Seymour. Part of the audition was having to do a duet with someone auditioning for Audrey, and kissing her at the end of the song. Dustin was really good at every other thing he had to do for this role, but the idea of kissing someone random on stage in front of the whole town was really freaking him out. (Sure, cannibalism and murder was fine, but god forbid there was PDA). Of course, Steve became his personal director for this particular issue, as the ex-ladies man was very familiar with kissing practical strangers in public.

“Listen, you just gotta think about Suzie,” he advised.

“You want me to think about my girlfriend while kissing another girl?” Dustin questioned, looking at Steve like he has 5 heads.

“No that’s not what I-“, Steve started. He sat down on the couch next to the now Sophomore. “Look. This whole song is about realizing you’re in love, right? It’s about finally getting the girl. It’s about finally realizing that the person who’s been by your side this whole time, who’s had your back since day one, who’s never hurt you is the love of your life. And you’re finally ready to see that, to admit it,” Steve explains. “Not only are you falling in love with your best friend, but you have this feeling of-of hope. There’s a weight off your shoulders and everything just might work out in your favor. And that’s how you feel about Suzie, right? Like it’s all gonna be okay when you look at her?” Dustin nods in response and Steve continues. “So you gotta take all that- all that love and light and- and hope and put it into this song, and the kiss. It’s not about kissing someone on stage, it’s about making the audience feel that joy that your character is feeling.”

“Wow, Harrington. I didn’t know you were such a fuckin’ sap.” Eddie’s voice rings out from the doorframe of Dustin’s bedroom, scaring the ever living shit out of the other two boys. “Jesus Christ, Eddie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that,” Dustin scolds.

Eddie puts his hands up in defense “Sorry, sorry. Stevie was on a roll, there. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yeah, he was. I just still don’t get how I’m supposed to kiss someone that I’m not into without it being weird or at least looking weird, ya know?” It’s Eddie’s turn to offer some advice, now.

“Oh, Dustybun, it’s way easier than it sounds. Isn’t that the whole point of acting? You do it every week at Hellfire, this is just like that. You’re woo-ing the fair maiden to get access to the castle and it’s armory. Except, instead of rolling a D20 and convincing me, it’s an audience that actually wants you to win.”

And Dustin thinks about that for a minute, because yeah he does have to “act” in Hellfire every week and there have been a few times where his character has had to flirt his way out of some sticky situations. But he still has his reservations. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you guys do it?” He says to his mentors,  not wanting to admit they were right so easily.

“Fine,” Steve almost snaps before Eddie has the chance to make some sarcastic come back. The metal head looks over at Steve, a little wide-eyed, but before he can protest, Steve is talking again. “I’m no singer, but I’ll do my best. You know the song?” He asks Eddie. 

“Uh, yeah kind of,” he croaks out, too caught off guard to really say anything else.

“Alright. We’ll start with the last chorus. You okay taking Audrey?” Eddie nods his head as Steve hands him a lyric sheet, still a little stunned at everything that’s happening. Man, he just came to pick up some Hellfire notes Dustin had for him. And now here he was, standing in Dustin’s bedroom, singing a fucking love song with Steve Harrington. Shit, he wasn’t even a soprano, he can’t hit these notes! Eddie clears his throat and starts singing, albeit taking it down an octave. Steve is right there with him, singing the back up vocals with surprising emotion. Holy shit, Harrington can sing. Holy shit, can Harrington act? There’s no time to really dwell on the revelation right now, because Eddie realizes he should probably be acting too. Only he doesn’t really have to act like he loves Steve because he does, oh god, he does. Has been since he watched that idiot jump into a lake that was also an inter-dimensional portal with zero hesitation.

So they’re singing to each other, standing face to face but far enough apart that it’s not, like, weird or anything. And then it is weird, it’s so so weird because they’re on the last bit of the song and Steve has moved in closer to Eddie and is looking at him like he did right after Eddie kissed him on New Years. By the third “sweet understanding”, Steve grabs both of Eddie’s hands and steps in really close now, so much that they’re singing the last line directly to each other, staring each other in the eyes. And when that last note wraps up, where there should be some orchestral music and applause from an auditorium filled with people, Steve moves his hands to around Eddie’s waist and kisses him like they do in all those sappy movies. Steve’s hand are everywhere and Eddie feels like he’s being completely held together by the younger man, like every piece of him will shatter the second he lets go. And they kiss, chaste and unmoving, waiting for the fake applause to die down and the stage lights to fade to black so the next scene can start. But they break apart and Steve turns to Dustin and raises his eyebrows looking for approval, like he didn’t just melt the metal heads brain.

“Woah.” Dustin is kind of flabbergasted by the display he just saw. “Why didn’t you guys do the plays in school? That was super convincing. Like, so good.”

Steve smiles, all teeth, beaming and proud. “Yeah, well, we were busy. With sports. And, uh,” he gestures vaguely to Eddie, “and drugs.” Eddie has regained enough brain function at this point to shrug in agreement with the last statement, but he’s wondering if Steve’s really that good of an actor or if there’s something else there. No, probably just wishful thinking. But as Dustin gets up to find the papers Eddie came for and Steve offers them both a rushed goodbye as he realizes he’s late for his shift, Eddie can’t help but remember that this is the fourth time Steve’s mouth has been on his. 

A/N:

Idk shit about fuck about D&D. I've been trying to get someone to teach me or let me join them or anything and I simply cannot. If I am using the wrong die for this hypothetical situation in my fictional non-canon story about fictional people in a fantasy horror show, I'm sorry. This isn't Um, Actually, okay? I'm just guessing.

I also know nothing about the licensing process for school musicals, but the Little Shop movie came out in ‘86 and I love the idea of a fanatic drama teacher making it the musical. And Dustin would love it because it’s about a giant plant who eats people because it’s an alien. I also haven’t seen the full musical (not the movie, they’re different) since I was like 7 so please pardon me if they don’t actually kiss during Suddenly, Seymour. 

[quicktimeeventfull]

A Good Old-Fashioned Kiss: An L/Sachiko Fic

Explicit 4.7k words Read on AO3 Contains: Adultery, cunnilingus, really bad HR practises Bored at a particularly loathsome New Years office party, L decides it's a fantastic idea to proposition his HR manager, one Sachiko Yagami. Thank you so so much to @lightyaoigami and @blondiest for reading this over and helping so much with this. <3

Sachiko sighs. “I used to be very attractive when I was their age,” she says. “Boys couldn’t get enough of me.”

He blinks at her, then look down at the drink in her hand. It’s in a plastic cup, because their company is a clownshow. It’s mostly empty. There’s an open bar, which L had been taking advantage of before he switched to his beautiful fruit cup, and perhaps this is why he decides it’s an excellent idea to respond honestly.

“Well,” he says, “I certainly don’t think that’s changed.”

She sighs again, and waves her hand towards the room. “You’re very sweet,” she says. “Look at everyone. They’re all so — young. They all dressed up.” This is more or less true. Everyone has taken it upon themselves to look as though they’re going out somewhere festive rather than clustering around a bunch of folding tables with plastic covers. Even L has gone and found himself a black button-up, which he’d belatedly realised makes him look like a waiter. Sachiko, in her Christmas sweater, stands out, the one soft and pleasant thing amongst all this sharpness and anxiousness to please. “No one here would be interested in me.”

“No,” L says, a little more forcefully. “I’m very sure they would be.”

[jadedvibes]

Oh he’s an absolute dream 🥰 Wow what a sweetheart, this was adorable! 🥹🖤✨

Midnight Kiss

Pairing: Chris Beck x Female Reader Summary: Chris made a promise to kiss you at midnight and he intends to keep it. Word Count: Almost 1.4k Warnings: Fluff, light angst, established relationship, Chris Beck (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Last fic for the year and @ysmmsy. suggested something for our sweet space husband! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You gazed up at the stars and ignored the chill in the air as you wondered why you bothered going to the small party tonight. You knew why, of course. Your friends didn't want you to miss out on a good time and you didn't want to disappoint them by bailing. It didn't help though that everyone inside had paired off, leaving you as the odd one out. Watching everyone kiss at midnight wasn't exactly your idea of fun.

Which was how you found yourself standing outside in the cold, staring up at the sky as if it could make your boyfriend show up.

When you wish upon a star.

You started dating Chris Beck less than a year ago and he was, without a doubt, the best boyfriend you ever had. A brilliant man with a soft heart, and the sweatshirts to match, he provided you with love and many happy memories in such a short time. Reality, however, seeped through the honeymoon phase and reminded you that both of you had obligations. He had an impressive career as an astronaut and a surgeon long before you came into the picture.

You’d always be proud of him.

Chris didn't believe you when you told him you never had a New Year's kiss. You laughed and told him your date the year before passed out by the toilet long before the countdown began. The years before that didn't fare any better. It didn't seem like a big deal.

Until this year.

"I'll be your first midnight kiss."

He had every intention of going with you tonight and swore he'd give you the best kiss at midnight. He even had a button down shirt picked out to match your strapless blue dress until he got called in. Giving you a sorry look, he swore he'd make it up to you, even when you said he didn't have to. Though he currently wasn't in orbit, he still had an important job to do on the ground. You wouldn't dare hold that against him.

It didn't mean you weren't a little sad.

"You promised me a kiss," you whispered into the night, snuggling deeper into the warm sweatshirt you took from his closet earlier. He’d be upset if you went out into the cold without anything covering your arms. "But that's okay."

You didn't move or turn around when the door opened behind you, the sound of laughter and chatter briefly filling the air before the door shut. You kept quiet, not wanting to be a downer or to be asked why you were out there by yourself. The familiar presence at your back brought comfort, even though you weren't seeking it out. Before you knew it, a smile touched your lips when the gentle scent of cedar and citrus filled your nostrils.

The same cologne Chris opened just a few days before when you exchanged gifts.

"What's a nice girl like you doing out here all alone on New Year's Eve?" he asked, gently gripping your elbow to turn you around.

He's here. He showed up. He kept his promise.

The twinkling lights around the door provided enough light to see the blue of his eyes as you faced him. Tears sprang to your own unexpectedly when he brushed his warm fingers along your cheek. He used his hands to heal others and now his touch closed the wound of loneliness that had opened inside you.

"My boyfriend is working tonight," you told him, your voice thick as you played along and blinked away some of the moisture in your eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

His thumb moved up to catch a stray tear, his smile apologetic and gentle. "I may have seen him around before. Over six feet tall with blue eyes and short, dark brown hair? It looks about as soft as the sweatshirt you're wearing. I'm guessing it's his."

"It is," you smiled, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He was right about it being soft. "I think it goes well with my dress."

He hummed in appreciation as he took a step back to admire you, taking a bit of the warmth with him. "It does," he said before he wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you close again. "It looks really good on you."

You could have picked a paper bag to wear tonight and Chris would have found a way to compliment you in it. The first time you woke up beside him, no makeup on and still half asleep, he whispered how beautiful you were to him. Just like he did when he made love to you.

"My boyfriend thinks it looks good on me, too," you teased.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about your boyfriend," he said as he raised an eyebrow. "Handsome guy, isn't he? Nice smile? Some may even call him a sexy nerd."

Oh, my humble man.

"All of those things. Very handsome, nice smile, a sexy nerd. He's so smart. One of the most brilliant men I know," you smiled, taking pride in bringing a slight pink hue to his cheeks at the compliment. "Did you know he graduated from Yale? And he worked for NASA. Flight surgeon. Completed five spacewalks."

"Did he give you his resume on your first date?" he joked, bringing his other arm around your waist.

You giggled when you brought your hands up to his shoulders, starting to sway even though there was no music. "No, he was a perfect gentleman. He waited until our second date."

The laugh Chris let out spread warmth through your chest all the way down to your toes. "Sounds like a real winner, even if he did have to work tonight."

Your smile slipped as he cupped your cheek again, refusing to let you look down or away. "Work is important and this is just a party, so he's still a winner."

He shook his head when you nuzzled your cheek against his palm. "It isn't just a party. I heard through the grapevine that he owes you a kiss at midnight. He intends to keep that promise."

It meant everything to you that he showed up, but you couldn't help the guilt you felt. Did he rush through work to get to you? Beg someone to cover for him? No matter what he did, it showed just how special you were to him.

You're just as special to me.

"I appreciate that," you said, watching the lights shine in his eyes again. "I appreciate him so much."

"Ten!" your friends shouted inside, their voices loud enough to be heard through the glass.

"He appreciates you. His beautiful, special star," Chris smiled as your cheeks got hot. "And he couldn't imagine any other way to bring in the new year."

"Nine!"

You couldn't imagine it any other way either.

"Eight!"

Chris brought his other hand up, holding your face with such infinite tenderness as you stopped swaying.

"Seven!"

"I'm glad you made it, Chris," you smiled.

"Six!"

"I'm glad I did, too," he smiled back.

"Five!"

"Thank you," you said, leaning in closer.

"Four!"

The tip of his nose brushed against yours, both of you anticipating what was to come.

"Three!"

"I love you," he whispered between your lips.

"Two!"

Your heart raced as you closed your eyes. "I love you, too, Chris."

"One!"

You weren't sure if fireworks went off in the distance or if you heard them in your mind, but your mouths met in a kiss that left you breathless. A shudder wracked your body as his hands moved from your face down to your hips. You willed yourself to stay upright when he licked into your mouth, moving his tongue against your with expert precision. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world to do so.

A perfect kiss with a perfect man.

"Can I confess something?" he asked.

You were happy that he sounded as affected as you felt. "Yeah."

He brought his mouth close again, whispering the words just for the two of you to hear. "That was my first midnight kiss, too."

You smiled as you pressed another kiss to his lips, thanking the stars above for gifting you with his wonderful man.

"Happy New Year, Chris."

It was going to be the best year yet.

I can't wait to share more next year with you lovelies. 💙 Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Misc. Sebastian Stan Characters ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ingravinoveritas]

I've posted on here before about the work I do as a professional speaker, so I field a lot of speaking requests in my e-mail on a day-to-day basis. Got a request last week from the UK and was super excited until I realized how off it seemed. It was from a monsignor at a church in London and had a lot of flowery, religious language, and I talk about autism and sex for a living, so why would a priest want me to speak at his church's conference? Although I might need a priest after doing that...

Did some research after receiving a follow-up e-mail with equally over-the-top religious verbiage, only to have my suspicions confirmed: It's a scam. A "keynote speaker" scam, of all things:

The wording of the e-mails described on this site was identical to the wording of the e-mails I received, down to the "theme" of the conference. Apparently the aim is to get your money via claims of needing a work visa and then having their "sponsor" get in touch with you to arrange the details once you've filled out the forms they send.

I'm feeling upset and disappointed for multiple reasons--at the thought of other disabled/autistic speakers or other vulnerable people being taken advantage of by these assholes, at the prospect of a speaking gig in a place I've always wanted to visit being taken away--but also because the so-called "conference" was supposed to be in March and I thought for a hot second that I might have the chance to see Michael in Nye.

I'm at least glad that my instincts were right, and that I was able to cut off contact before anything else happened, but still...ugh...

[sitp-recs]

5 shorts + 1 longfic to read at NYE

Got time for one last rec list if anyone’s looking for NYE-themed treats before the year ends 👀 Sharing below the ones I’ll be revisiting today. Happy New Year friends! I hope you have an amazing night and wish you a fabulous 2024!

🎆 This Time Again (Next Year) by @gryffindorhearts (T, 2k)

At thirty minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve, Harry is buried under a mountain of paperwork. Only Malfoy, his long-time coworker and one-time lover, could have any hope of distracting him.

🎆 Countdown to a Life by @tackytigerfic (E, 3.4k)

A balcony, first kisses, December to December. A little story of building up a life together.

🎆 This Heart Shut Wide by @xanthippe74 (T, 4.6k)

It’s New Year’s Eve and Draco refuses to talk to anyone at this wretched party in the Eighth-Year common room. He’s going to ignore Harry Potter and not think about snogging him in the staircase earlier.

🎆 Five Years by @shiftylinguini (M, 5k)

For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.

🎆 In the Early Hours by @manixzen (M, 10k)

It started with one night, which turned into months, which turned into years. And then, Harry realized he was in over his head.

🎆 This Year's Love by @thusspoketrish (E, 84k)

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him.

[jadedvibes]

Oh dear 🥹 it’s soft, fluffy, precious, so well written, just 🥲💙✨ you’re amazing 👏🏼

Dear January

Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: While everyone else is celebrating the new year, all Bucky can think about is his resolution and you, though the two are inextricably linked.

Warnings: a little angst with discussions of Bucky’s past & references to him having PTSD, reader has empathy related powers, fluffy ending

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies, dividers by @newlips. Happy New Year everyone!! I hope 2023 is the year all your wishes and dreams come true 💜💜

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Dear January, please let the new year be kind to me.

It was nearing midnight when Bucky strayed from the festivities, sneaking away from Steve’s overprotective, hovering presence while he was distracted with one of the new recruits Natasha was attempting to set him up with.

A crowded room with loud music and dancing couples might have been his scene in the 40’s, but was far from the solitary life he enjoyed in the 21st century. Steve had insisted that the party would be a good opportunity to get to know everyone outside of a work environment, and also confirmed you would be in attendance.

If Bucky were honest, that was the only reason he had chosen to come.

This was Steve’s world and Bucky was simply a visitor - if you could call someone who had been living in Stark tower with the rest of the Avengers for more than 6 months a ‘visitor’. But this was Steve’s home, Steve’s friends, Steve’s team, and as happy as Bucky was to see his best friend adapt to these modern times and surround himself with a community of people who trusted and respected him, Bucky still felt like an outsider.

No one trusted or respected him.

Well, with the exception of Steve himself, and perhaps you, the other newest member of the team. But Bucky wasn’t sure if your kindness stemmed from wanting to make a good impression as a newcomer, or if you genuinely liked his company.

He hoped it was the latter.

Bucky’s thoughts as he descended the tower to the small, concealed area in the basement he used to get away from the bustling upper level floors, was that this new year brought a fresh start, and that’s what he needed most right now. A clean slate. To hit the reset button on life.

He knew it was arbitrary, nothing would actually reset at the tick of midnight - his troubles of December 31st would still be his January anxieties; his murderous past would continue to follow him around like a shadow, something he couldn’t simply shake off and which only became darker the more light you shed on it.

But a change in calendar year could at least come with a change in mindset. That would be the first step in achieving his New Year’s resolution and to move on with his life.

Perhaps finally forgiving himself for the atrocities his body committed without permission from his mind would be the first step in feeling like he truly belonged.

“Hey, whatcha doing all the way down here?” Bucky recognised the voice immediately - of course it would be you to find him down here. You were the only person besides Steve to care enough to notice his absence.

“How did you find me?” Bucky chose not to turn around, he didn’t want you seeing the affliction on his face it seemed only you could detect, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.

“It’s not too difficult when you have a cloud of melancholy following you around.” There were times when Bucky relished your powers, being able to sense his emotions meant he didn’t have to find the right words to vividly express how he was feeling when he didn’t have the strength to describe just how miserable and despondent the weight on his chest felt on a particular day. Though, today was not one of those occasions. “What’s wrong?”

“This is technically my first new year since the 40’s, I wasn’t sure how I’d react to the fireworks. Loud sounds sometimes still…” He trailed off, embarrassed at how pathetic it sounded when he tried to articulate that loud sounds still triggered flashbacks to events of a war which occurred eighty years ago.

The concern brimming in your eyes in response to this almost made him feel guilty for not telling you the entire truth - yes, he was concerned that the sporadic, popping sounds of the fireworks would set off one of his PTSD episodes, but what he failed to mention was he was frustrated with himself at not being able to make conversation with the team upstairs as easily as he’d have hoped.

With you it came so easy. Expressing himself to you was effortless and didn’t carry the same nervous weight as it did with everyone else. But that only made his futile efforts earlier that night all the more infuriating and discouraging.

You reached out and took hold of his hand. Even though Bucky had known you for around six months, it still surprised him every time how gentle, almost affectionate, your touch was. It made him flinch, but not in the same way physical touch usually made him recoil. He liked the feeling, he was simply not used to it. Not used to being handled like something cared about, something treasured.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be with you through the whole thing.”

The basement of Stark Tower was the depot for all previously loved items that Tony refused to throw away, so with the items on hand, you set up a blanket fort between a few old chairs, loaded with comfy pillows and sought out some old card and board games to keep the two of you occupied.

When the clock suddenly struck twelve, and the new year commenced, Bucky could barely hear the crackling sound of the fireworks from the haven of your blanket fort, even with his enhanced hearing. You said a quick ‘happy new year!’, kissed him on his cheek and went straight back into the game of uno you were teaching him to play.

He was far too engrossed enjoying his time with you, and trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, to pay any mind to what was occurring outside the four walls of the basement.

“Do you have a New Year’s resolution?” You asked as you played a draw two card. Bucky groaned in annoyance, though your cute chuckle in response to this was the real reason he had done it.

“Are you really meant to share resolutions? I thought that jinxed them.” Was what Bucky said to avoid saying his out loud.

“It’s not like a wish Buck, you can say a resolution aloud - it’s the work you put into them that makes them come true.” Bucky hesitated a moment but eventually gave in to your curious expression. He knew his aspirations would be safe with you.

“To try and be kinder to myself. Forgive myself for the deeds I was forced to commit and to remind myself what I did doesn’t define who I am now.” His statement sounded recited and even he wasn’t completely convinced by his words, so he knew you, who was privy to every inflection of emotion through his body, would not be satisfied with his answer. “That I’m not a killer anymore.” Bucky added feebly.

“James, you were never a killer.” He had seen the way his own teammates looked at him with utmost caution and terminal wariness every time he entered a room, as if they were all predicting his complete disintegration where he would revert to his brainwashed state and attempt to kill everyone in the tower. He was positive they considered him an executioner.

Bucky paused - you had never looked at him like that.

“I killed people, I’m pretty sure that makes me-”

“No it doesn’t, because that wasn’t you.” You interrupted. The ease at which these words rolled off your tongue and the steady conviction of your voice as you doubled down on your argument, prompted Bucky to think you actually believed them. “You do not hold any of the blame for what you were forced to do, you are a war veteran who fought for the freedoms of so many people, you gave your life so others could live theirs free of Hitler’s regime. You should be commended, not punished.”

“Thank you, for having that faith in me, I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“Yes you do. And I’ll always be around if you need the reminder.” You placed your second last remaining card down on the ever growing pile and claimed ‘uno’. Bucky was too preoccupied with the words you had said to continue focussing on the game.

“Always?”

“For as long as you want me to, Buck.”

“What if I wanted you around forever.” Bucky commented, chuckling slightly so you’d think he was half joking, even though he wasn’t. He bashfully broke eye contact to place a card on the central pile, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from heating like an ember.

“Then forever it is.”

Bucky was absolutely positive you were currently able to sense his feelings of deep affection and devotion for you as easy as noticing the warm sunlight on your skin during a cloudless summer day. But with the way you were earnestly smiling at him, and those kind eyes looking at him like he was all that mattered to you, he didn’t feel panicked that you knew how he felt. In fact, right here with you was the most serene he had felt since the 1940s.

As you placed your final card on the pile, a triumphant smile blossoming on your face as you won the game, he found he could not tear his eyes away from the magnificent sight.

Bucky realised in that moment he would do anything to see you smiling like that every day of his life.

The thought he actually had a remainder of a life to plan for frightened him, but if he would be able to spend it with you then he considered that a life worth living.

“Bucky?” You queried with wide eyes, scooting closer to him in the fort. His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest with anticipation - you wouldn’t have to have empathy powers to tell your proximity made him nervous.

“Mhmm.” He hummed, licking his lips as his gaze quickly averted to your own before returning to your yearning eyes, which were making the carefully constructed walls he used to keep the pain of rejection out, weaker by the millisecond.

“You know, it’s tradition to kiss at the beginning of the new year.” You stated with a contagious cheeky smile.

“I do remember that one.” He chuckled shyly, hopeful excitement buzzed in his stomach at the prospect of what was about to happen.

“I’d like for you to be my first kiss of the year.” You requested, and Bucky’s heart felt like it would explode in his chest it was beating so powerfully. “Also for you to be the only person I kiss all year, if that’s okay with you.” And with that he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Perfectly fine with me.”

You reached across the paltry space between you and tenderly placed your lips on his as your eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was tentative at first - you were allowing Bucky to set the pace, determine how deep he wanted to delve. It was Bucky’s first kiss since the 40’s, he was worried he would disappoint you, but when he felt your eager lips against his, it gave him the confidence to go all in.

Reaching across the space between you, Bucky pulled you into his lap, simultaneously silently asking permission to explore your mouth with his tongue, which you freely gave him.

Your bodies pressed together, your hands pulling you ever closer to him, was the unexpected, yet perfect way to start to the new year.

Dear January, thank you for already making this year better than my last.

[rarepairnation]

with every seed you sow, let it wash away, wash away on ao3: in which an elf and a prince of gondor speak of grief and death and the sea, and life and song and brothers.

for @lotr20​ day 1: memory/history/home

Words: 3975, Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Faramir & Legolas Greenleaf, Éowyn & Faramir & Legolas Greenleaf, Éowyn/Faramir (Tolkien) Characters: Faramir (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Éowyn (Tolkien) Additional Tags: boromir is not present but he is HAUNTING the narrative, Character Study, Relationship Study, Friendship, Sea-longing (Tolkien), Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gardens & Gardening, faramir can and will read your mind and the author will not let you forget it, a fic that is about death and also about life in its wake, gardening as a metaphor for healing Summary: “It is a gift, Master Elf,” says Faramir with a sad, sad smile, “to have the chance to choose the day of your death. Though I can only imagine it is a bitter one.” Legolas opens his mouth, then closes it. In Faramir's smile glitters the barest glint of mirth. “It is death, is it not? Of a kind. A journey to a realm you do not know, and behind your ship, one to which you can never return.”